Apron no Jutsu
by nescione
Summary: Sasuke is stuck under house arrest in Kakashi's house and Kakashi needs to stop being Sasuke's mother. Apronfic with a twist, sort of. KakaSasu.


This is very silly, and written for the apronfic challenge on copycock, and was inspired entirely by the fact that Kakashi is a Virgo. Eternal thanks to subdivided for being my beta and making this somewhat funny. Naruto is not mine, but Kakashi's apron is. Mmm, apron.

* * *

Sasuke was not a morning person. Despite years of ninja training, he saw no reason to cultivate morning-person habits; he got by well enough by faking them. Very few people actually knew this, because his "I'm grouchy because I hate mornings" expression was nearly identical to his "I'm grouchy because I hate _everything_" expression. So, even though he _could_ function before ten in the morning (with the help of an alarm clock), he preferred not to. 

Kakashi, the bastard, _was_ a morning person, and kept letting him sleep in while coming with new and more outrageous excuses for turning off Sasuke's alarm every morning. The first time he'd done it, the morning after Sasuke moved in, he'd also tried feeding his student breakfast in bed. The sight of Kakashi holding a tray stacked with his favorite foods and radiating parental concern had prompted Sasuke to level his best Withering Glare at the older man. Kakashi, despite not being at true master of the Sharingan, was immune to Withering Glares. So Sasuke bit him, knowing he could claim temporary insanity as a result of that whole Orochimaru debacle if anyone asked. (Had he not been so irritable over being put under house arrest, he would have contemplated biting Kakashi in a completely different context- one involving fewer clothes.)

Kakashi, after making sure Sasuke wasn't afflicted with rabies, decided his charge could feed himself.

However, when he found out that Sasuke's idea of breakfast involved either cold leftover takeout or bread and jam, he'd been almost comically horrified. (It wasn't that Sasuke didn't cook, it was just that he never trusted himself with anything more complicated than a microwave that early in the morning. Toasters were out of the question after the incident with the curtains when he was ten.) After that, Sasuke would wake up late to an empty apartment, but there would always be a stack of neatly compartmentalized containers in the fridge full of rice or fish or eggs, accompanied by precise, detailed instructions on properly reheating them if necessary.

He wasn't sure where Kakashi went during the day (technically he was supposed to be watching Sasuke), but if he tried to set foot outside the door to look for his errant teacher, three squads of Anbu would descend upon him and politely ask him to go back inside. He practiced glaring at them from the doorway, finding the challenge presented by the masks quite refreshing. It was fun until Kakashi mentioned something about irritable Anbu and fire seals on the doors and windows, and wasn't that hair gel Sasuke used highly flammable? Then he'd patted Sasuke on the head affectionately (mussing Sasuke's hair almost irreparably and earning a Glare of Spontaneous Combustion, which was ignored) and asked what Sasuke wanted in his bento the next day.

Sasuke had taken to wandering aimlessly around the apartment during the day, wondering when Kakashi had become his mother. This would remind him of his family and the fact that his brother was still alive; he would then spend the next few hours punching a practice dummy in the corner of the kitchen until his knuckles bled. Kakashi always came home and made disapproving noises at him, prompting Sasuke to reply with his Incredibly Scornful Glare (for use when the situation was clearly the fault of the other person's stupidity). Kakashi was immune to that one, too. He was forced to let Kakashi bandage his hands, feed him, and put him to bed. His _own_ bed, where he would listen to his teacher moving around the apartment until the soft, familiar sounds lulled him to sleep.

Then he would wake up late, and it would start all over again.

It was infuriating. Sasuke almost wanted to storm into Tsunade's office and glare at her until she put him under house arrest in someone else's house. _Naruto_ would at least wake him up every morning, and would never in a thousand years even _think_ about cooking him breakfast. And if he did, Sasuke would feel perfectly justified in refusing it, because really, who ate ramen for breakfast? (He had, on occasion, when he'd forgotten to go grocery shopping, but he was still _clearly_ superior to that dead-last idiot.)

Naruto wouldn't give him wounded, one-eyed looks that settled uncomfortable balls of warmth in the pit of his stomach for refusing to eat. Naruto wouldn't wander around the apartment every evening, wearing nothing but a towel, wet from the shower- or rather, Sasuke wouldn't have cared. And Naruto wouldn't be oblivious to the combination of Sasuke's Sexually Frustrated Glare and Broodingly Sexy Sulk.

On second thought, living with Naruto probably wasn't a good idea.

Besides, having to put up with the certifiably insane (completely clueless, passive-aggressive, anal retentive, and just plain _weird_) (and sexy) jounin every day was more than enough to make him regret defecting. This, he reflected, had probably been Tsunade's intent. He had to respect the woman's genius, but if something didn't change, he was going to start gnawing on things. _Sharp_ things.

Sunday morning was the last straw. He was already irritable, having woken up as early as possible (which wasn't especially early at all). Kakashi was, of course, already awake and puttering around the kitchen. Sasuke wandered in and blinked sleepily at the bright summer sunlight pouring through the windows. He wasn't often awake to see the sun at that angle.

He stopped in the doorway, looking a little lost in Kakashi's cast off shirt and pants. (He had clothes of his own, but not many, and nothing really appropriate for sleeping in; it would have been rude to reject Kakashi's gift of extra clothing, anyway. If he spent a few extra moments at night burying his nose in the extra folds of the shirt, imagining he could still smell Kakashi in them, well, what no one knew couldn't hurt them.)

Kakashi was at the stove. Sasuke's nose twitched, and his eyes sharpened, suddenly deadly, as the rest of the scene before him registered to his sleep-addled brain. He tried to send a Generic Glare of Rage at Kakashi's back, but the horrific stench in the air made his eyes water, effectively aborting the attack. He resorted to snapping, "Tell me that's not breakfast."

Kakashi gave him a slightly amused glance over one shoulder and turned back to whatever foul smelling concoction he was stirring on the stove. He was wearing a pink apron. There were ribbons. And ruffles. _Pink_ ruffles. Sasuke's left eyelid began twitching fitfully.

"Smoke bombs and acid, actually. Breakfast is in the oven, I'll let you get it in a minute."

Sasuke's eyelid relaxed slightly when he realized that the apron wasn't entirely pink- more of a splotchy, faded reddish brown. It had probably been white once, but a combination of chemical spills and bloodstains had permanently darkened it. It was a proper ninja apron, too; the ribbons were actually garrote wires and the ruffles were loops for shuriken and kunai. The Konoha leaf symbol was branded into the sturdy canvas near the top.

"Why don't you just use the standard issue stuff?" Sasuke perched on the edge of a chair, watching. He technically knew how to make his own smoke bombs, but he'd never been particularly interested in alchemy.

"The standard issue equipment costs money that I'd rather spend on kunai, toilet paper, and other things I can't easily make myself. I haven't been taking any good missions lately." Kakashi carefully lifted the bubbling pot of pink liquid and poured its contents through a strainer into a glass flask.

Sasuke glared at his feet, pleased to see them hide under the too-long cuffs of his pants in response. At least some things still respected him. He revelled in that tiny triumph before returning to his brooding; Kakashi couldn't take missions because he had to be around to babysit. Not that it bothered him, or anything- it didn't matter that Kakashi was reduced to playing mad scientist in the kitchen to save a little cash. That hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach was because he was worried that Kakashi was going to accidentally poison him, that was all.

Kakashi stoppered the flask and scraped the contents of the sieve onto a flat metal sheet, spreading it evenly and placing the whole thing on top of the burner to dry. He stepped away from the oven to the sink, and began scrubbing at his hands. "Help yourself to breakfast." He tapped the oven door with a foot, and Sasuke absolutely did not stare at the suddenly mesmerizing lines of his teacher's calf.

Instead he shambled to the oven and looked inside. His eyelid began twitching again. There were pancakes, neatly stacked and looking cheerfully fresh, despite the fact that they'd probably been in the oven keeping warm for a while. Something in his brain disconnected with a snap, and he slammed the oven shut.

Kakashi looked up, mildly alarmed. "Sasuke-kun...?" His student's eyes were swirling sharingan-red.

"Shut up." Sasuke ignored the sudeden sharp pain on his neck and darted forward, slamming his teacher against the edge of the sink. Kakashi's spine impacted the counter with an uncomfortable noise, giving Sasuke the opportunity to grab the jounin by the hair, rip off the mask, and shove his tongue down the older man's throat.

The part of his mind that hadn't snapped was screaming incoherently. He ignored it and did his best to lick Kakashi's tonsils before Kakshi put a stop to it- and, probably, a stop to Sasuke's higher brain functions with a chidori to the head. At least he'd die somewhat less unhappy than he'd been before. Sort of.

He finally broke away, gasping for air. "You're not my mother." he hissed against Kakashi's lips. "I don't want you to be my mother." He pressed forward for another kiss, but Kakashi very gently and very firmly pushed him back.

Sasuke stumbled against the table, still panting. "Stop acting like you're somebody's wife," he spat, burning with rejection. The half-warning glance Kakashi gave him silenced him immediately, and he dropped his gaze to his feet in sudden, irrevocable shame. Kakashi didn't even look surprised, the bastard. He waited, shaking, for the lecture, the chidori, the perverted but disparaging remarks- _anything_.

Kakashi very slowly removed the apron, folded it neatly, and put it away. Then he turned off the oven and the stove, moving carefully, deliberately. "Sasuke." He was suddenly standing very close, and Sasuke trembled like a leaf. "Look at me."

He squeezed his eyes shut instead, and felt tears at the corners. Kakashi's hand was warm on his face, tilting his chin up. His lips were even warmer and Sasuke made a noise halfway between a gasp and a moan as Kakashi explored his mouth very thoroughly with an amazingly agile tongue. The rest of his brain finally gave up and shorted out as Kakashi's weight pressed him backwards across the kitchen table. Sasuke wrapped his legs around Kakashi's waist and made a few more desperate noises into the jounin's mouth.

When Kakashi pulled away, he still looked completely cool and collected. Sasuke in contrast, was sleep rumpled, flushed with anger and arousal, and spread out across the kitchen table like a five course meal. Kakashi's eye curved upwards in a sly smile. "Really now, Sasuke. _Wife_?"

"Shut up," Sasuke gasped, and pulled the older man in for another kiss, breakfast completely forgotten.

The next morning, he woke up earlier than usual, to an empty bed. He stared at the conspicuously empty space beside him and indulged himself in a long, scathing glare at the pillow beside him. His stomach rumbled just as he was getting into it, though, ruining the effect.

He was very hungry now- he'd never actually gotten breakfast the day before. But he'd be damned if he'd let Kakashi feed him ever again- there were some things his dignity just couldn't take. He stalked into the kitchen without bothering to dress (Kakashi had put his clothes in the laundry room already, being the crazed neat freak he was), prepared to make himself a breakfast that was properly befitting of his wounded pride (and the other aching parts of his anatomy).

He stopped in the doorway, glaring. Kakashi was at the stove, wearing the apron and a set of spectacular bite marks on his shoulder- and nothing else. He smiled over his shoulder at Sasuke, almost obscenely smug. "Good morning, Sasuke-kun. Breakfast?"

Sasuke's eyelid twitched abortively. He had a thousand different angry glares in response to Kakashi's cheerful greeting, but instead he hoisted himself up onto the countertop, flinching slightly at the feel of cold formica on his bare ass, and leaned back on his hands. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in his newly developed Sex Kitten Glare, pleased to note that he'd finally found a glare that Kakashi was not immune to.

"Yes, please."

They didn't get around to breakfast until three.


End file.
